


Henry's Son

by TheBlackWook



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Harrison's Identity, Iron Heights Prison, Theory based fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackWook/pseuds/TheBlackWook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You seem to care about Barry… And you know, this is funny because I remember…" He paused, his eyes, nearly glistening, looking at the ceiling as the reminiscent of that joyful day came back to his mind. "Harrison… You know, we actually thought of naming Barry like this, because it means…" Harrison Wells visits Henry Allen in prison. Harrison-centric OS</p>
            </blockquote>





	Henry's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, so before we begin, I want to say to you that I wrote this OneShot, BEFORE Tom Cavanagh clearly stated that Harrison Wells was *SPOILERS DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW* the Reverse Flash. This was one of the many theories I believed and I had this idea after a chat on tumblr. So, even if the theory is kinda obsolete now, I hope that you'll enjoy the story and give it a try :) ! Let me know what you think about it :) ! Bye guys :D !

It was a long drive until reaching Iron Heights Prison. Pushing with all his force on the accelerator, the car was at its fastest and way too over speed limits now, but he didn't care. It was the only way he had now, to feel this fast again. Losing his powers, his abilities, had been the worst. Well… They were not completely gone, but he couldn't really run anymore and thinking about all the people that had needed his help while he couldn't do anything : it had stabbed him right through the heart. Helping people had always been his goal and being The Flash helped him to achieve it. But now, all he could do was to watch the suit that used to belong to him, that used to be his, without being able to wear it, feeling now this was just a distant memory. This red suit… How he wanted to just feel it upon his skin once more, feeling he was helpful, he had meaning in life. He had lost everything that day : the woman he loved, his friends, his remaining family, his powers. How was he even supposed to survive after all he had gone through ? It was a question he asked himself a lot, today, but any other day too. Going back in the past was his last hope, but still. He didn't understand why he survived, how he still managed to go on. Of course it was because of the team. Caitlin, Cisco and Barry were the reasons why he was still sane enough to pursue his life and try to believe there was still a hope for him, for his days, in the future. Barry… How far away this name seemed to echo in his mind since the last few years. It was strange sometimes when the young man was around and that he had to call him by his name. Everything would just come rushing back to his mind, painful flashbacks, memories.  
Taking a glance to the rearview mirror, he watched his reflected blue eyes for a second. They hadn't always been blue. In fact, the real colour of his eyes was green, used to be green. But somewhat, lighting changed that, without knowing why though, but his eyes became blue within the time he had been The Flash and were likely to stay like this now. Not that he cared actually, it was just eye colour after all. The glasses were not with him, he had not felt like taking them for what he intended to do. Besides, he wasn't particularly in need of glasses. They were just part of the character he played every day. And thinking about the glasses made him think about the wheelchair of course. How ironic he thought : the fastest man alive was now reduced to fool everyone by pretending to be paralysed. He had to pretend he couldn't walk, he couldn't run. It was necessary of course, he knew that, but it was somehow the worst part of this plan, as if this wheelchair was the constant reminder of the powers he had lost, as if he was somewhat paralysed without being able to run and be The Flash. He thought about it all the time, every day. He hated that look of pity people had on their faces when they walked past him : he could accept being called a monster, a murderer or whatever everyone was saying, because of the particle accelerator, but that look… That was why he didn't go out often outside of the lab or outside of his little house he had at the end of town, where there was no one in the neighbourhood, so he could be in tranquillity.  
It was still dark outside and it was very early in the morning. He knew what the date today was and therefore, he had given his young teammates the day off. They had all deserved it and he had made sure that Caitlin and Cisco would take care of the young speedster today, lifting his spirits on a sad day like this one was. He knew full well how he would feel, still blaming himself for what happened. How could he have done something ? He was just a kid by then. The first years had been the hardest, for both of them. Little Barry would always walk with Joe to his mother's grave. The cop had been reluctant at first, but agreed in the end, knowing that Barry needed it. And Harrison knew. He knew everything about that, because every year since that awful night, he had been there too. He would always be upon that hill, far away from the boy and his new father, watching them, hearing the echo of the child's voice. And when they would eventually leave, he would go down to the grave too. He would stare at the name craved in the stone, he would talk, he would sit and left flowers. Sometimes he would cry, but sometimes he would not, knowing that she would want him happy. As years gone by, the pain lessened, even if it was still there, opening his scar every time he thought it would not. But even if he went on, trying to achieve what he was planning to do by being here, he would always come to her grave on that day, the day that she left him, the day he had been powerless and couldn't do anything. How many nights, right after the event, had he been drinking alone, crying all the tears of his body, until there was no more left ? How many times had he been thinking about giving up everything and just disappear, end his journey ? Since that night, he had been feeling useless. For years he felt useless in the very deep of his soul, even if he was mesmerizing the scientific world at the same time. The ache followed him everywhere. He had been glad when Caitlin and Cisco arrived, knowing that he was beginning to approach his goal. The faithfulness they rewarded him in every occasion was enough the warm his usually cold and broken heart. Sometimes he really wanted to tell them everything, but what would happen then ? The last bit of hope he had would be gone, it would change everything and he couldn't afford it. He was meant to do this in the dark : nobody would remember it, nobody would know except if he was able someday to go back in the future, but he didn't care. As long as he could fulfil his mission, it would be everything to him. He would know he had saved them and that would be enough.  
As he arrived to the prison, faster than he thought to his surprise, he parked the car and walked out. It was still early in the morning, but visits would be allowed in less than a couple of minutes. He had driven all night to come here, the first time in fifteen years. He didn't know why he had come, but he felt he needed it. He had been alone far too much on these days and this time, he wanted to be with someone who shared his pain, who suffered too much from his own mistakes. He just wanted to check on him today, wanted to see if he was safe. Entering the building, walking and without glasses, he showed the guards a fake ID. He just couldn't go around walking and pretending to be Harrison Wells while everyone believed him paralysed. The early hour of his visit wasn't a coincidence either : people were few at this hour and he wouldn't have to worry too much about being discovered. The guard led him to the parlour and he waited for the innocent prisoner to be brought in. He soon arrived in this old uniform and sat, taking the phone to his ear.

"Who are you ?"

That could have been rude, but Harrison didn't mind because the man before him had all the rights and reasons to ask that question.

"I'm Harrison Wells."

Henry Allen watched him with curious eyes as realisation struck him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in a wheelchair ?" He asked cleverly.

The scientist didn't respond for a moment, before he waved off his question :

"I want you to know that your son won't be alone today. And any other day too. But today of most days, I made sure he won't be alone." 

The ex-doctor looked at him with mixed feelings in his gaze : surprise, understanding, gratefulness, suspicion. They didn't say anything for a long moment, just watching each other through the glass that separated them, before Henry Allen spoke up :

"You seem to care about Barry… And you know, this is funny because I remember…" He paused, his eyes, nearly glistening, looking at the ceiling as the reminiscent of that joyful day came back to his mind. "Harrison… You know, we actually thought of naming Barry like this, because it means…"

He couldn't finish his sentence as he stopped when he saw the scientist before him burst into tears, a hand over his eyes to hide the salt water that now came freely from his eyes. He had wanted not to cry today, he had wanted to stay strong for her, for him. But he couldn't help it. Henry Allen, an innocent man, had been in prison for the last fifteen years because of him.

"I'm so sorry…" He managed to say between sobs. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save her. I could not save mom. That you have to suffer all of this because of me." He said at last, still avoiding the gaze of his father.

It was then that Henry Allen knew. Maybe he couldn't comprehend everything, but believing in the impossible made him stay alive for a long time, so what would it be different now ? Looking at the man before him, Henry Allen couldn't help but let tears slipped from his eyes too, imagining what he surely had endured during those fifteen years : guilt, shame, depression, loneliness. As Harrison tried to dry his tears, he finally looked Henry in the eyes :

"I'm proud of you. I don't know everything, but I know you're doing it for the best, for good reasons." The prisoner said.

The scientist couldn't help it, as much as it was a cliché gesture, he put his hand on the glass, soon joined by his father's hand on the other side of the glass. Yes, Henry Allen was proud, of his son who took over the alias of Harrison, because he knew what it meant. It meant Henry's son.


End file.
